DRURY-LANE MISSES.
Mrs. Margaret Bunce, a lean, dirty, slatternly matron, apparently between fifty and sixty years old, complained that she had been grossly assaulted by Miss Eliza Pritchard and Miss Hannah Maria Bagwell—a pair of little stunted damsels from the back settlements of Drury-lane; who, according to their own account, maintain themselves "very cumfuttably by going a charrin."
"Please your worship," said Mrs. Bunce, "I lives in Short's Gardens, and these ladies lives in Charles-street, and I can get no comfort for 'em night nor day. They'm always at me for everlasting, go out when I will; and yesterday arternoon they pounced upon me as I was standing in Doory-lane, and give me this here black eye; and my nose has been as yellow as a marygoold ever since, as your worship may see."
"Have you any witness?" asked the magistrate.
"Yes, your worship—I was standing talking to this 'ere lady at the very time," replied Mrs. Bunce, pointing to a meagre young woman in a ragged hurden apron, a worn-out man's coat, and an old muddy hat, something in the form of a barber's basin. "I was talking to this 'ere lady at the very time."
The lady came forward, dabbed a court'sy, and wiped her face with the corner of her apron.
"Oh! this lady," said his worship; "and what may your name be, Miss?"—"Julia Legge, your worship."—"And pray may I ask what occupation you follow—Miss Julia Legge?"
"I sells vauter creeses and sweeps crossings, your worship," replied the gentle Julia; and then she wiped her weather-beaten charms again, and substantiated every word Mrs. Margaret Bunce had uttered.
"Miss Eliza Pritchard and Miss Hannah Maria Bagwell, what have you to say for yourselves?" asked the magistrate.
They answered—"in a joint and corporate voice," "Vy, your Vorship, ve've this 'ere to say—as ve never did nuthin o' the sort; and that there lady (Miss Julia Legge) vasn't there at the time."
Mrs. Bunce and the gentle Julia hearing this, lifted up their eyes and hands in astonishment, and opened a fresh volley of evidence, which concluded with a declaration from Mrs. Bunce, that she never went to see her own mother that they did not lie in wait for and attack her.
"Your mother!" said the magistrate, "why how old are you?"
"Me, your worship—why I'm turned of forty."
"And pray how old may your mother be?"
"Why, your worship," replied Mrs. Bunce, doubtingly, "I reckon she must be fifty—or thereabouts!"
There was a general and very ungallant burst of laughter at the broad guess; and poor Mrs. Bunce seemed a good deal confused; but at length the gentle Julia took upon her fair self to say that Mrs. Bunce's mother was seventy-eight, to her own certain knowledge.
At last it was ordered that the young ladies, Miss Eliza Pritchard and Miss Hannah Maria Bagwell, should find bail to keep the peace towards Mrs. Margaret Bunce; and not being prepared with any, they followed the turnkey to his stronghold, weeping as they went.